


Don't Let's Start (This is the Worst Part)

by syrensxng (shootngstxr)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: e040 Human Remains (The Magnus Archives), F/M, Memory Alteration, Time Loop, Time Travel, Worms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:00:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24277756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shootngstxr/pseuds/syrensxng
Summary: He crossed the room in a single stride and pulled her into a tight hug.“Wha- Tim?” Sasha protested. “Listen, if this is your way of convincing me to have dinner with you, the answer’s still no. It’s a work night and I can’t risk waking up late again.”“It’s not,” he breathed into her shoulder.For months he had replayed this day over and over again in his head, trying desperately to retain any image of her from then. But the thing that had replaced her had corrupted it indefinitely, and he could never remember even a single detail no matter how much he tried.Sasha James, he now remembered, had worn a cable-knit sweater the day she had died. Just like the one he was burying his face into now.And that was when Tim knew he was well and truly fucked.
Relationships: Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Tim Stoker, Sasha James/Tim Stoker
Comments: 26
Kudos: 135





	1. Chapter 1

“Who am I even sad for?”

The thing that had taken Sasha’s place, as it turned out, had taken more than just her name, her face, her identity. It had taken her existence entirely. The memories of her, the relationships she had formed, were all gone. Meaningless.

Every instance Tim could remember of brushing Sasha’s hair behind her ear, hearing her laugh bubble up from one of his jokes, their fingertips touching as he handed her coffee (two sugars, one cream). 

Every one of them had that **fake** **face** watching him. What more had been taken? Was anything he remembered of her real?

Staying up late watching old sci-fi movies, up to her ears in clunky bracelets. Had her smile really shone like lamplight, soft and persistent?

How was he supposed to mourn the loss of someone he couldn’t remember?

Tim felt sick. He barely registered himself giving the statement to Melanie as he stumbled into one of the small storage closets. Martin’s cot was still there, shoved aside from when he’d first stayed overnight at the Archives to avoid Jane Prentiss. Tim sat down on it.

Worse yet, it felt like he didn’t have anyone to turn to. Jon had apparently gone off the deep end and  _ murdered _ someone, and Martin had worn out his fake optimism to the point of nausea. Elias had  _ apparently _ managed to rope yet another poor soul into working at the Archives. 

He stared at the ceiling above him, blank and generic. 

Sasha had been his only confidant, the sole person he could really and truly trust. She had always been honest with him. (Had she?) Without her he was untethered, adrift. Static.

He turned away from the cot. He was going to throw up if he kept trying to think about her, trying to push through the incomprehensible fog that surrounded the very memory of her face. 

As Tim stepped into the storage closet, his boot hit something on the ground. A book, the title of which written in Latin.  _ Convertat Horologium Tergum. _

Well, fuck. What was this doing here? This wasn’t the evidence closet. It must’ve fallen off one of the many shelves somewhere, though he couldn’t think of how it’d gotten in. He leafed through it blearily. There were pages and pages of handwritten inscriptions, paired with meticulously detailed ink illustrations. The last one, about halfway through the book, depicted a woman frozen in fear. The illustration had been done in pain-staking detail, shadows painted across her face as she stared back at him. There was someone behind her as well, though from the twisted, towering shape it couldn’t have been human. Its smile seemed to taunt him.

The inscription read:

Gerit ea vultum qui non suus est

Verone, aliqui videmur?

Memento eos qui soli ambulaverunt

Memento, et lacrima

Tim dropped the book. He might be in the dark about most of the Institute’s dealings, but he knew enough about Leitners to know that he’d just made a horrible mistake. He licked his chapped lips and looked around the closet. For the time being, at least, nothing was happening. And he was so, so tired. The monsters, or whatever the hell he’d just unleashed on the world, could wait. And he laid down on the stiff cot to rest.

He woke to the sound of someone calling his name.

“Tim? Tim, wake up.” He groaned and rolled over. After their previous conversation, he  _ really _ wasn’t looking forward to dealing with the new girl.

Tim buried his face in the pillow. “Fuck off, Melanie, not now.” 

“I- What? Melanie? You know what, nevermind. I don’t want to hear about your gross flings. Just get up, alright? Jon wants us to do some research on a statement.”

That wasn’t Melanie’s voice, he realised. It was someone else’s, hauntingly familiar in a way he couldn’t place. Tim opened his eyes. Standing above him was a woman, looking blatantly unimpressed. She had the ghost of a resemblance to the eerie figure he’d seen in the Leitner. Same freckles and round glasses, but without the terrified expression.

And then it clicked. “Sasha?” His voice came out barely above a whisper. 

She nodded. “Yes, it’s me. Who else would it be?” Her expression twisted into one of concern, and Tim could only guess what he looked like in that moment. “Are you sure you’re alright, Tim?” The back of her hand came up to his warm forehead. “I’m sure Jon would be alright with you taking a break if you’re feeling sick.”

“I’m fine,” he lied, as a wave of cold dread washed over him.

Sasha looked unconvinced. “Right, if you say so. I’m going to get some lunch. You’re welcome to join me, if you want.”

He followed her into the breakroom, almost tripping over his own feet. 

Sasha James had dark, curly hair that she always pulled into a scrunchie. She had red-rimmed glasses and dangly earrings that Tim teased her about constantly. When she got nervous, she developed a stutter and pushed the glasses up her nose. 

All these details came back to him as he watched her walk around the Archive breakroom, and Tim drank in every bit of it. 

He crossed the room in a single stride and pulled her into a tight hug.

“Wha- Tim?” Sasha protested. “Listen, if this is your way of convincing me to have dinner with you, the answer’s still no. It’s a work night and I can’t risk waking up late again.”

“It’s not,” he breathed into her shoulder. 

For months he had replayed this day over and over again in his head, trying desperately to retain any image of her from then. But the thing that had replaced her had corrupted it indefinitely, and he could never remember even a single detail, no matter how hard he tried.

Sasha James, he now remembered, had worn a cable-knit sweater the day she had died. Just like the one he was burying his face into now. 

And that was when Tim knew he was well and truly fucked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Move over Jon, there's a new sweaty disaster man in the Archives. Thanks for reading, and an extra big thank you to anyone who reviewed. Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Edit: Re-wrote the first two chapters in preparation of a new one.

It was, Tim mused hours later, remarkably easy to get back into the rhythm of working in the Archives. Once Sasha had herded him to the old cabinets, insisting he look for a certain statement Jon was asking for, he’d taken to the task eagerly. It was one of the few responsibilities as an assistant that required little critical thinking and actual work on his part. 

And he needed the space to think. It seemed entirely unbelievable to him that he’d somehow been transported so far back. Not the actual logic of it, of course, he was well aware of the capabilities of Leitners and the Entities. It was something else.

Sasha was  _ here, _ alive and healthy and happy. She was a couple rooms over, researching some terrible inhuman being that would kidnap Jon in a few months time. She thought the biggest danger in the Archives was the mysterious plague of worms that had followed their colleague. Martin was in the breakroom, making tea and pining over Jon, who in less than a year would murder a man in cold blood in the tunnels below the Institute. 

And God knew what horrible things Elias had done. The man kept his fair share of secrets, Tim was aware of that. 

But none of that had happened yet. The knowledge of those events would be his own burden to bear. And his responsibility. 

The possibilities were endless and he had no idea how to explore them.

_ Clank! _ Tim slid the metal file cabinet closed, holding up a statement triumphantly. He’d found it. Now all that was left was to deliver it to Jon’s office before the end of the day, then he could figure out a plan for all this. 

He didn’t make it five steps out the door before running into Jon. 

“Tim! My apologies, I didn’t see you there.” he exclaimed, adjusting his glasses. Tim had to do a double take. The Jon before him was so much younger and less bone-weary than the one from his own time. Gone were the worry lines and wrinkles, the grey hair at his temples that had made him look so aged. He was a different person entirely.

It took Tim longer than he cared to admit to answer. “Sorry, boss, my bad. Wasn’t looking where I was going,” he beamed, hoping it looked natural. He, too, had changed much in the past year. “I, uh, found the file you were looking for by the way.” Tim held out the statement. 

Jon took it eagerly. “Ah, yes, thank you. I look forward to reading about a,” he paused to look at the statement, looking not unlike Tim’s grandmother as he peered. “Man-eating vase. Well, it’ll be interesting at the very least.”

“R-Right, yeah! Is that all? Or do you want me to tell Martin to go put the kettle on?” Tim joked. He winked at Jon, surprised at how easily the teasing came to him despite the tremor in his voice. 

The other man rolled his eyes. “I’m good,  _ thanks,” _ he said, voice dripping in annoyance. “I don’t doubt he’s already put one on, anyway.” Jon looked up and something akin to surprise flickered across his face. As if he was really seeing him for the first time. Those eyes seemed to pierce him like daggers. And Tim knew it was ridiculous to think so (he’d only been here for an hour at most, really) but for a brief moment it seemed as if Jon knew everything. 

Nothing could have scared him more.

But then the expression on his face passed, and instead Jon shook his head and asked if he was feeling alright. 

Tim laughed nervously. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine! Just looking forward to lunch, really. Didn’t have breakfast this morning.”

It seemed convincing enough for Jon. “Right, of course. I’ll leave you to it, then. See you later, Tim.”

And with a wave, he was gone. 

Tim had gone out for lunch the first time around. Taken the train to a quiet little cafe he’d planned on showing Sasha later. And when he’d come back Jane Prentiss was already there. He wouldn’t be making the same mistake twice. 

Still, he had no clue where exactly Sasha had been attacked, though it had to have been some time after they’d separated, near Jon’s office. So he just had to stick with her the whole time. 

Easy. He hoped so, anyway.

“-im? Tim! Are you okay?” Tim looked up to see Sasha staring at him worriedly, a hand on his shoulder. It took him a second to orient himself. There was a small bowl of instant ramen steaming in front of him, and he realised he was in the staff kitchen. 

Tim swallowed. “I, uh, yeah.” His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears, mouth dry as he licked his lips. He gave a weak smile.    
“Are you sure? Like I said, Jon’d probably let you go home sick today, there’s not much to do right now. I can handle the rest of the research for today, really.” 

_ “No!” _ The answer came far too insistently to pass off as casual. “I mean, it’s probably nothing, headache comes and goes, you know?” 

She nodded, though the worry still lingered on her face. “If you say so…” Before she could get another word in edgewise, a loud thump came from Jon’s office.

“What was that?” Sasha frowned. Tim swallowed dryly. He didn’t know what had happened there the first time, but already he had a sick feeling in his stomach. “I’m going to check it out. Sounds like something fell.”   
Before he even knew what he was doing, his hand shot out and grabbed Sasha’s wrist. “Don’t,” he said quietly, keeping his eyes fixed at the door. “Don’t go.” Dread seemed to creep into his veins, cold and slow. He was freezing with it. 

Sasha pulled away. “Tim? What’s wrong?” she asked. When he didn’t answer, she said, “look, it’s probably nothing, just some files getting knocked over.” Even she sounded unconvinced by her own words.

Tim reached out again, this time grasping Sasha’s hand with both of his own. “Just… trust me, okay? Don’t go to Jon’s office.  _ Please.” _

“Why not?” God, she must think he was crazy. “Tim, what’s going on? This isn’t funny anymore. Why shouldn’t I go?” 

And he couldn’t find an answer. Not one that made sense, anyhow, as he wracked his brain for an explanation. He had to protect her, not just from Jane but from everything else here. And God, there was so much. She looked so scared. 

There was so little time and so much he needed to do.

Slowly, Tim let Sasha’s hand slip out of his, as she went to the door. “I’ll be back, Tim. Stay here. Rest for a little bit, okay?”    
“Okay.” His own voice echoed hollowly in the now-empty breakroom as she left. And he felt hopeless.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick reminder before this chapter, please pay attention to the change in rating and the new tags! I'm delving into body horror and gore with this fic, it's all canon-typical violence but make sure you know what you're getting into.

He had to find Martin. That was the first thing going through Tim’s head right now, that if he could do nothing else maybe he could find a way to keep everyone safe from Jane Prentiss. He remembered the nightmare of last time, wandering for days in corridors that just wouldn’t end, echoes of manic laughter in his ears. He knew now that Michael had been there with them, but hindsight really was 20/20. 

Entering those tunnels together had taken so much bravery, Tim liked to think it had brought them closer together. Even if it was only out of necessity. But then again, Jon had gone down with them too, and, well… 

In any case, Tim still trusted Martin. He was a bit of a coward in the present, maybe even more so now, but he was loyal. And trusting, more than he ought to be. But he was good. 

Tim found Martin in the hallways. Completely oblivious to everything, carrying a file. He grabbed him and pulled him into the nearest room. 

“Tim? What’s going on?” 

He shushed him quickly. If there was anything Tim knew, it was that they needed to move quickly here. A glance at the clock told him that it was already half past 12, around when Jane had attacked the Archives. 

“Martin, keep quiet,” he said. Tim looked at him steadily, putting his hands on his shoulders. 

He glanced around. There weren’t any worms yet from what he could see but it wouldn’t be long. “Listen, I need you to run and get to Elias. As fast as you can, go.” Tim might not like the man, but at least he would do something. He couldn’t imagine that Elias would be pleased with his institute being invaded by worms. 

“I don’t-” Martin started, brown eyes searching Tim’s own. His shoulders were tense and frozen, anxiety radiating off of him. “I don’t understand, what do you mean?”   
Tim sighed. He ran a hand through his hair, and dragged it down his face. “Look, I don’t have much time to explain, I just…” And then he saw, on the ground, wriggling, a worm. It was stark and silver against the dark flooring, just a few feet away from them. It was strange how much fear such a little thing could strike into his heart, but Tim found his voice failing him suddenly. 

Memories of those things, burying into him, skin warping with their shape as they burrowed deep. He felt sick.

“Tim? Tim, are you alright?” Distantly, he was aware of Martin calling to him, voice tinged with worry. Tim shook himself out of his stupor despite the nausea. Martin’s gaze followed his own to the worm on the floor. 

Tim could tell the exact moment he spotted it. Martin’s eyes widened for a moment, and he swallowed thickly. “I… I’ll get Elias.” Blue eyes looked up, worriedly. “Tim, listen. Be safe, alright? Find the CO2, it’s around here somewhere, get everyone out as quickly as you can.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I will,” Tim promised. And then Martin left down the hallway. 

The static seemed to rise. 

Tim had been a track star in high school. Tall, lean, faster than anything (at least he’d thought so), classic jock. And he’d loved it. To know he could carry himself so far, so fast, that the rest of the world felt like a blur around him. And then to turn around and see everyone else cheering for him, his father flashing one of his rare grins in his direction. There’d never been a better feeling. 

He wasn’t good enough to break any records, not by a longshot, but there was still pride in his victories, his talent. 

But Tim had never run as fast then as he was now, in the halls of the archives. 

He found the fire extinguisher by the file room and broke the glass with his elbow. Tim shook his arm free from the spare glass and picked up the extinguisher. In a swift motion he pulled the fire alarm down, too. Maybe that would buy him some time. He had a feeling he would need it. 

Everything was far too normal today, despite everything that would happen. In Tim’s memory the lights had flickered and grown dark, stolen by the worms Jane Prentiss had let crawl everywhere. And yet here, right now, they didn’t. There wasn’t a hint of anything wrong in the foyer when he entered, not a single chair out of place. Dead silent.

She was standing there, in front of Sasha. Jane was, true to the statements she featured in, tall and pale, a sickly figure in the otherwise clean room. Her dark hair was unkempt and messy, sticking up in the strangest places. Tim could’ve sworn there was dried blood at her scalp. 

A walking corpse, his mind provided. She really had gotten the short end of the stick. He remembered her statement, her fear of the hive in her apartment and how it had eroded her sanity until there was nothing but an empty shell. Tim shivered. 

When she turned to him, no eyes met his gaze. Only deep, dark pits where they should be, worms crawling out of them. It was enough to make him sick.  _ “Who’s this? Your knight in shining armor?” _ Jane asked through cracked lips. She lifted her hands to the long grey coat she wore and opened it slowly. A sudden wave of worms came from under it, spilling and squirming overtop each other as they crawled, a single entity rather than individual ones. She laughed loudly, high and crackling.  _ “I’m afraid he won’t be of much help here!”  _

Sasha gasped, stepping backwards instinctively. Tim ignored the feeling of his heart in his throat and stepped forward to grab her arm. In a quick motion he shoved her behind him, putting himself between Sasha and Jane. “Sasha, run. Now! Get to the tunnels.” Those were safe, he remembered, at least partly so. He felt a flood of relief as she bolted.

And then he let the extinguisher loose. The force of the spray sent him stumbling backwards, as he aimed it at the growing swath of worms at his feet. Where he pointed it they shriveled up, and Tim heard Jane shriek as if she herself was hurt. Maybe she was.

He didn’t wait to find out, following Sasha as closely as he could. 

They didn’t stop until they reached the trapdoor separating the archives from the tunnels and scrambled inside. 

Instinctively, he grabbed Sasha’s hand as he stalked forward, intent on making sure they didn’t get separated. He remembered those long days spent wandering these halls with Jon, not knowing if they would ever make it out. Losing Martin in the process. He wasn’t going to let that happen again. Maybe he hadn’t changed much of what had happened, in this sick joke of a second chance the Leitner had given him. But at the very least, he wasn’t going to leave her alone. 

She pulled back suddenly. “Tim? Tim, wait, stop. I- What are we doing here?” Sasha asked. 

When Tim looked back at her in surprise, her brow was furrowed, lips turned into a shaky frown. She looked unsure, hesitant. Even so, Tim found himself memorizing the expression, every curve and trace of it. Just in case. He wondered briefly if she still trusted him, now. He wasn’t sure if he would’ve trusted  _ himself _ after everything, all his strange behavior.

“There’s, uh, a fire suppression system down here somewhere,” he said finally. “Jon told me he had Elias replace it with CO2, it should kill the remaining worms.” Tim pretended to ignore the skeptical glance she cast at him. He was too sure of his actions, too ready for what was happening. But as long as she trusted him… 

“What about the worms?” Sasha asked. She was smart, she knew this place well. Been here longer than Tim himself. He had to admit, it wasn’t exactly reassuring that the tunnels down here were made of packed dirt instead of wood. “It’s… dangerous being down here. Who knows if there’s already worms crawling around.” 

He swallowed. “I know. I know, just… stay close to me, okay? The release should be near here somewhere, we just need to keep quiet and move quickly.” 

“Okay. Okay, yeah.” Sasha grasped his hand and they continued on.

They didn’t encounter Jane again, wandering through the tunnels that seemed too fragile now, too likely to give way to another horrible swarm of worms. Tim tried not to think about the likelihood that she’d gone after Jon and Martin instead. That they were likely dead by now. 

By the way Sasha had gone quiet, she’d come to the same realization. 

He shone his flashlight at her and saw the way the light made her eyes shine with unshed tears. They said nothing. 

It wasn’t until far, far later that they saw it. Tim had expected to encounter Jurgen Leitner, Jane Prentiss, maybe Jon and Martin if they were lucky. It was more likely that they would spend the rest of the time simply wandering through the tunnels, without an exit in sight.

What they found was far worse. It towered at 10 feet at least, body twisted unnaturally so that it was bent over, something resembling a head reaching the top of the tunnel. It shouldn’t have been able to stand with how thin it was, parts more similar to ropes than actual limbs. And something slick, black like oil was dripping from it. 

Tim froze. It hadn’t seen them yet, maybe if they were careful enough they could escape. They didn’t move fast enough. Slowly, it twisted towards them. Those weren’t limbs, he realized, they couldn’t be, it was moving in so many places all at once. And there were too many of them. 

And then that awful, horrible thing reached out to her.

In her final moments, stepped backwards, not quite far enough, and turned. She dropped her flashlight and it landed against the wall, casting shadows across the crevices of the creature's face. Her face crumpled, as she pleaded with him to do something,  _ anything.  _

"Tim?" Her voice broke. 

And then, like plastic set on fire, her face  _ melted. _ It all warped together first, eyes and mouth losing their shape as they melded together. In his terror Tim looked to the creature in front of her, only to find its face no longer blank. Sasha's lips smiled back at him. 

He cried out. Tim felt bile rise up in his throat and looked away, praying that what he'd seen was some sort of fucked up manifestation conjured by the Leitner to torment him But when he opened his eyes he saw only the solid dirt floor under him. There was the sound of soft footfalls, and Tim felt a hand on his shoulder.

He woke to the sound of someone calling his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tim angst go brrr. Thanks for reading this chapter, hope y'all liked it! This is my first time writing body horror but this fic's definitely going to get messy, I wanted to experiment a bit with it. 
> 
> Kudos and comments would be greatly appreciate <3

**Author's Note:**

> My friend Martin's never read a time loop fic before, so I took it upon myself to write one for him. I trust Google Translate about as far as I can throw my computer, but the title of the Leitner is supposed to say 'Turn the Clock Back' in Latin, and the inscription on Sasha's page should be  
> She wears a face not her own  
> Are any of us truly seen?  
> Remember, who walked alone  
> Remember, and weep
> 
> I like to imagine Emma Harvey hid Leitners around the Archives whenever she was the first one to come into contact with them. Hope you enjoyed this first chapter, and I'd love some feedback on this fic! Thanks for reading.


End file.
